


She Wolf

by Green_essential



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Don't touch Rook's kid, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Inspired Work, Jealousy, Mama Grizzly moments, Mama Rook, Multi, Non-Consensual Tattooing, One-sided pining, Possessive Behavior, Rook is a great mom, Shared child, Slight Obsession, Slight Smut, Suspense, The Seeds are creepy but what else is new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_essential/pseuds/Green_essential
Summary: It was one night, over six years ago. He'd been a lot of fun, and Rook had been left with the consequence. But she loved that consequence, more than anything in the world. And she'll protect her with everything in her body; from friend, foe or family alike.But Jacob let her go once. And it won't happen again.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Baby Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19910266) by [Dearly_Divided](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearly_Divided/pseuds/Dearly_Divided). 



> Look at me. Just starting no fics with no consideration of the consequences. I can't even apologize, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Idk if I'm even going to continue, let me know in the comments *shrugs*  
> Rook is portrayed by Megan Fox  
> Abigail is portrayed by Cailey Flemming (just imagine her with blue eyes)  
> This work is directly inspired by Baby Blue by Dearly_Divided. It's a stunning one-shot and an even more amazing idea, go check it out!

_My mom is going to kill me._

That was all nineteen-year-old Olivia “Rook” Rooker could think as she stared down at her bathroom sink in disbelief. Four white and pink sticks were all lined up next to each other, each glaring up at her with the exact same result in the tiny, sunken result window.

Two lines.

Positive.

It had been _one time._ Literally a single night, the one time in the two years she’d been having sex that she forgot a condom. She hadn’t planned on a one-night stand, really. She was just out with some of her teammates after they won their first college game, and she’d been so high on the win and the fact that her older friend, Jessie, kept buying her drinks. Some hot, older, red-headed guy with some insanely sexy scars had plopped down at the bar while she was on the dance floor. She remembered sitting by him to order a drink, she remembered flirting with him. She vaguely remembered him throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her into her apartment while she laughed.

And she sure as hell remembered him not wearing a condom.

Rook couldn’t say it hadn’t been enjoyable; the only other sexual experiences she’d had were with both of her ex-boyfriends. Both had been much younger than this man, and clearly less experienced.

He’d made her see colors she hadn’t known existed.

The man, who she remembered was named Jacob, had gotten up before she did. He made some breakfast and sat and talked with her. Neither of them were looking for a relationship, and he was headed out of state. It was perfect; they’d had one more go before he had to leave, and that was that.

But then as time went on, Rook was getting more and more exhausted. Her favorite snack, Cool Ranch Dorito’s, suddenly smelled terrible. Just thinking about them made her feel sick. Her breasts hurt, and she had been standing in front of the mirror and wondering if she should get back to Victoria’s Secret to get re-sized when it hit her.

One panicked trip to the drugstore and three bottles of water later, and here she was.

Tears welled up in her eyes, streaking down her tanned skin before she could stop them. Rook didn’t bother to wipe them away; she couldn’t tell if it was pregnancy hormones or if the severity of her situation was finally setting it. Most likely both. But she had no idea what to do.

Hands still shaking, she grabbed her cellphone and dialed her mother’s number.

_Eight months later…_

The off-white walls of the maternity ward were somewhat soothing as the nurse helped Rook into her new hospital bed. It was much more comfortable than the one she’d given birth on, but then again, it had been an extremely short delivery. Her water broke, and after that, it had barely been three hours before her baby was in her arms.

She was beautiful. Thick, dark hair was now combed softly against her head, with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. Her lips were pursed as she slept soundly, itty-bitty eyelids closed over two large blue eyes.

Rook was in love as soon as she saw her.

Abigail Olivia Rooker was born at 9:30 p.m. on May 20th, 2012. She lit up every single room she was in; she just had a talent of wrapping everyone around her little finger. Olivia loved her to death, with her adorable laugh and her love of the color blue.

Rook had been working odd jobs to support the two of them, but when she turned twenty-four, she knew what she really wanted. Her own father was a retired police officer, with over twenty years on the force. The young woman wanted nothing more than to show her daughter what women could do, what she could be capable of if she put her mind and heart into something.

Rook had been a cop for a year when she was transferred to the Hope County Sheriff’s office, which was fine. It was a quiet little town in Montana, meaning some freedom for her and Abby. The now six-year-old was an active little thing, with a special love of monkey bars and basketball. The deputy herself had been raised on hunting and mudding in pickup trucks, so she was more than excited to move them out to the country.

But if she’d known what was waiting for the two of them, she would have refused the transfer. She would have quit the force entirely.

She would have done anything.

* * *

Jacob Seed had never forgotten Olivia.

Despite not knowing her last name (or her middle one, for that matter,) he found himself subconsciously comparing her to every other woman he was with after that. Of course, he’d slept with a fair share after getting back from Iraq. But despite all the booze, the girls, and the gambling, nothing ever put him at ease or drove him wild like she had. That single, mind-blowing, so-long-but-not-long-enough, perfect night.

He was having nightmares again, seeing Millers face everywhere he went, and so he went to the nearest bar in the college town he was in. It was a bad move on his part; the amount of frat guys and annoying drunk _children_ around him only served to piss him off further.

And then he’d seen _her._

With black hair that ran to her waist, intense blue eyes, and a body like nothing he’d ever seen. He knew it wasn’t quite appropriate; she looked like she was barely out of high school. But when she’d plopped down next to him in that low cut shirt and that tiny denim skirt to get the drinks for her and her friends, he couldn’t help himself. They were talking, then her hand was on his chest, then they were in a taxi making out, and next thing he knew he just couldn’t hold back anymore.

It was a one-time thing, he knew that. He’d bee going out of state the next day, still looking for a permanent home. And no way in hell would a hot young thing like her get into a permanent relationship with a man over ten years her senior.

So, he made damn sure she would remember him.

When he was alone, in the shower or his bed, he could still smell her, hear her moaning or crying out. Sometimes he dreamed about her. But he was certain she’d graduated college with a degree, got married to some accountant or whatever, and was living in some bullshit suburbia with three kids, a dog and a husband.

It irked him sometimes, but he’d brushed it off.

But Saturday night, he dreamed of her again.

Thick black locks spread out around her, eyes screwed shut, mouth open as she cried out and moaned, saying his name, _begging him._ When he woke up, he growled and nearly punched a hole through his mattress in longing. Even using his own hand was nearly enough.

It seemed he was doomed to never find someone as good as her again.

But when that bird touched down right outside the compound and those cops walked into the church, he knew things were going to change.

He’d make sure of it.


	2. ABANDON ALL HOPE

Rook hated flying.

Ever since a bad experience on a plane when she was six going to visit her father and his new girlfriend, she absolutely despised being high in the air in a compact space. The idea that engines could fail, fuel could run out, or even the idea of being struck by lightning terrified her. All it took was one issue, and then you were hurtling towards the ground with nothing to do but pray you died quickly.

And yet, she found herself hoping the flight didn’t end anytime soon.

They were crossing over the Henbane River, a long black ribbon painted over the darkened landscape. The young deputy couldn’t deny that Montana in general was absolutely beautiful, but she tried to focus on the positive.

_We’re going to arrest this fucker and be done with it. We’ll fly him back, book him, and then my shift is over. I’ll go home to Abby and do pizza and movie night like we do every Friday._

But for some reason, she didn’t believe her own thoughts.

“Oh fuck, there he is.” Hudson’s voice startled her, causing her to look out the open side of the chopper. A massive white statue of the subject of their arrest warrant stood there. One hand was raised to the sky, the other holding an open book. Despite it being a statue, his eyes seemed to follow them as they flew, piercing her own soul. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

_Joseph Seed._

“Crazy motherfucker.” Pratt chimed in, and Rook swallowed her nerves.

The U.S. Marshall sitting across from them was clutching an arrest warrant. Kidnapping with intent to harm. It seemed minor compared to all the things the cult was suspected of doing, but it might just be the start they needed to crack the Seed’s wide open.

_If you survive this,_ the unhelpful voice in her head added, but she pushed it back. Now was not the time for fear.

“We’re officially in peggie country.” Hudson announced, and the Marshall shifted impatiently.

“How much longer?”

“Just long enough for you to change your mind,” Sheriff Whitehorse responded, raising his eyebrows, “so we can turn this bird around.”

“You want me to ignore a federal warrant, sheriff?” The Marshall asked in disbelief, and Whitehorse shook his head.

“No, sir. I want you to understand the reality of this situation. Joseph Seed, he’s not a man to be fucked with. We’ve had run-ins with him before, they haven’t always gone our way. Sometimes, it’s best to leave well enough alone.”

An ominous pause followed the older man’s words, leading Rook to further doubt the sense of their current decisions. But the Marshall broke the silence.

“Yeah, well, we have laws for a reason. And Joseph Seed’s going to learn that.”

* * *

When the bird touched down, the air seemed to change.

As the group exited, boots hitting the ground with soft thuds as they engine died, they were met with harsh tension. It vibrated through the air around them, seeming to silence the birds. Just outside the compound, they hadn’t entered yet, but Rook could see the glares on the faces of the cult members as they observed them. Almost every single one was armed to the teeth with sometime of shotgun or rifle. Some were even strapped with AK’s. 

Rook’s own fingers ghosted over the leather strap of her service weapon, taking comfort in its presence.

Nancy, their girl in dispatch, had been ordered to call for help if they didn’t return. The request did nothing for Rook’s anxiety, or anybody else’s it seemed. Whitehorse stepped out in front of them, his dark eyes severe as he began speaking.

“Ok, three rules. Stick close, keep your guns in your holsters, and let me do the talking. Got it?”

“Got it.” Pratt spoke up for he and Hudson, and Whitehorse turned to her.

“Rookie?”

Rook’s head bobbed, her face solemn. This was her first real assignment since they moved her. Despite her anxiety, she knew that this was her chance to show them that she was capable of this job. They were watching her.

“Marshal?” Whitehorse asked, and the man in question rolled his eyes before nodding.

Satisfied with their agreement, Whitehorse began leading the group towards the compound. Pratt was the pilot, meaning he’d be staying with the bird to guard it. They didn’t need any peggies messing with their controls while they were away.

“They’ll be in the church.” Whitehorse told them as they walked. They fell into formation, Hudson clutching a 12 gauge as Rook, Whitehorse, and the Marshal tried to keep their hands off their 9mm’s, battling their anxiety.

The peggies didn’t look happy. They all glared, hair matted and long, the men growing beards that looked at least a few months old. They were all dressed like they were homeless, with ratty sweaters and pants filled with holes. As they passed through the entrance, Rook nearly jumped out of her skin when one peggie dressed in a flame-retardant suit fired off a flame thrower, setting something ablaze. Whatever it was, she couldn’t tell. It was long past recognition.

“Stay calm, everyone!” Whitehorse called out to the growing murmurs over the crowd that began to edge towards them. “Just go about your business, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Sheriff, I don’t like this.” Hudson said, her voice dark, and the Marshal scoffed.

“Jesus, you’re wearing badges, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but they don’t respect badges out here.”

“Well, they’ll respect a 9mm.”

Rook’s eyes flew to a peggie strapped with a double-barrel shotgun whose hands seemed a little twitchy, and she tried not to grab her own.

_I feel like a 9mm won’t do much good here._

But she kept it to herself.

By that point, they’d reached the church. It was an old building, clearly built long before the cult even got there. The white paint was peeling, the doors had random wood chipped away. But the black logo of the cult stood proudly at the front, never fading, always there. The crucifix under Rook’s own shirt seemed to burn a little at the sight.

The Marshal grabbed the handle for the door, beginning to open it. It was then they all heard the singing; _Amazing Grace._ It was being sung by a congregation, and it was haunting. Just the sound of it sent chills down Rook’s spine as Whitehorse placed his hand on the door, shutting it again.

“Whoa, there, Marshal. Now, if we do this, we do it my way. Calmly, _quietly._ ” He ordered, and the Marshal sighed.

“Fine.”

Whitehorse nodded at Hudson. “Hudson, watch the door. Don’t let any of these people get in.”

“You got it, Sheriff.”

“Rookie, on me. And you,” he turned to Marshal Burke, “Just try not to do anything stupid.” The Marshal merely stepped forward, placing his hand on the older cop’s shoulder.

“Relax, Sheriff. You’re about to get your name in the paper.”

Rook stepped closer, fingering her cuffs on her belt as Hudson looked her way. “You’ll be fine.” Her friend reassured her, and they shared a soft smile with each other before Whitehorse opened the door, and they walked in.

* * *

He knew her as soon as he saw her.

Standing off to the side, Jacob was happy to fade into the background. John and Faith stood across the room, the three Heralds observing Joseph’s sermon. Jacob had actually found himself growing bored until the doors flew open.

They were expecting them, obviously. Nancy had given them every bit of intel she could get her wrinkly old hands on. But the dispatcher hadn’t known much about the new officer, transferred to the unit less than a week ago. All they knew was her name, Olivia Rooker, she was in her mid-twenties and she had exceptionally high scores on all of her tests. He hadn’t made the connection on the name alone; it was a common enough name.

But Joseph had been more than excited. The day before, he had come to them with a gleam in his eyes, his voice shaking with excitement. He told them about his dream, about how this new deputy was supposed to be with them. She was supposed to be _theirs._

Jacob wasn’t going to question a hot young thing being brought to them on a silver platter, but he hadn’t really been listening to his younger brother until he saw her face.

Even after seven years, he couldn’t stop his staring. She looked good, she looked _damn_ good. Her hair was still dark, nearly black, and her eyes were such a pale and intense shade of blue they seemed to stop him in his tracks. Even in her deputy’s uniform, he could see her curves. She was a woman, now, and she looked it. The swell of her breasts, bigger than they had been when she was nineteen, and he could barely keep his eyes off her ass. Her plump lips were drawn together, and her jaw was tense. He could see the muscles under her shirt, rigid and unmoving, giving away her nerves.

He grinned wolfishly. _Well, well, well._ Who would have thought the best night of his life was the important factor in this cult?

As they closed in on Joseph, he, Faith and John all surrounded him. He met her eyes and saw her freeze.

Her face went white, and he saw pure _panic_ flash across her face. Her fingers moved towards her weapon, and her eyes flickered around them, as if looking for a way out.

_You can’t run from the big, bad wolf, sweetheart._

“Rookie, cuff him.” The ass-hat Marshal finally ordered after the two groups stood, exchanging words.

She hesitated as Joseph extended his hands, wrists together, ready to be taken. Jacob’s own shoulders tensed at the thought of them taking his little brother but remembered what Joseph had told them this morning.

_They won’t take me._

“Rook, I said put the cuffs on him.” The Marshal ordered again, and Jacob felt his teeth grind together.

_What an annoying little fucker._

Still, Rook didn’t move. She kept her hand wrapped around the silver cuffs, biting into her lower lip, looking ready to turn around and run. Jacob observed the movements with a shocking intensity, unable to tear his eyes away.

_Fuck, how was she still this beautiful?_

But then she moved. Pulling the cuffs free, she slapped them on Joseph’s wrist. They clicked loudly, the sound seeming to echo with finality across the church.

“God will not let you take me.”

* * *

_Fucking Nancy._

Rook cursed the traitorous old lady in her head at least thirty times within the hour once she’d finally escaped. After getting out of Dutch’s bunker, the first thing she did was find a truck. Nancy didn’t really know much about her personal life, as she preferred to keep it separate from her work life as much as possible.

But Abby wouldn’t be safe forever. She needed to get to her before the Project found out, or they’d take her. The thought of what would happen to her little girl if they got to her made Rook’s throat close up, but as she roared the truck to life, a thought stopped her dead in her tracks.

_I can’t bring her in here._

Abby wasn’t in Hope County, she was with the babysitter in the next town over. She was safe, too, tucked away in their house with the nurse that lived next door. If Rook suddenly dragged her into this fucking holy war, was that really much better?

Slowly, she let go of the wheel. And where would she put her? Abby couldn’t just run around with her, shooting Peggies and sleeping on the ground; that was no life for a six-year-old.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything, but Rook killed the engine. Abby was safe for now. That meant she needed to stay that way until something changed. Rook would need to secure John’s territory, gain some allies. Then, and only then, could she take a few of them with her to go and retrieve her daughter and bring her to safety.

Rook was aware that she had shitty luck in life; if getting pregnant at nineteen by a one-night stand was anything to go by. But to then meet the father of her child after seven years, during an arrest, and the subject of the arrest being his younger brother who also happened to be a cult leader, and Jacob himself was suspected of things like murder, torture, and psychological warfare?

That was a little much.

_If Jacob and his family find out about Abby, they’ll never let us leave._

* * *

_She can’t leave again._

It was all Jacob could think as he went over the plan with his brothers. It was pretty obvious that John fully bought into Josephs’ dream: Rook had to stay. She would stay with them for the rest of their lives. And honestly, Jacob couldn’t find it in himself to be at all upset about that. If being together between the three brothers meant she would be nearby, he wasn’t mad about it.

But of course, Little Miss Rebel just had to run off and start playing hero. He couldn’t lie, of course. The sight of Olivia blowing oil trucks and shrines sky high while strapped with a rifle and a handgun was sexy as hell. When the latest pictures they caught on the surveillance came across his desk, he groaned in frustration as he felt himself gain an unintentional erection. But it was also annoying; the deputy had been there for all of one week and she’d already destroyed over half their supplies and liberated Falls End. Not that those weak, pathetic townspeople were much of a threat on their own. But armed to the teeth and with stolen Project supplies, it was cause for concern.

“Can you please tell me why we don’t just Bliss her and bring her here?” John demanded impatiently, and Joseph sighed. It was his ‘we’ve-gone-over-this-at-least-twenty-times’ sigh.

“Because our little deputy is feeling rebellious. If we drag her here involuntarily, she’ll fight us continually and never stop trying to escape. That’s why we have her friends, and why we must bring her unto us _gently.”_ He fixed both of his brothers with a stern look as he said it, and both smirked a little at each other.

“Trust me, the little wildcat doesn’t prefer it that way.” Jacob told them proudly, and John groaned.

“Are you going to keep lording it over our heads that you met the deputy first?”

“Sure am.”

“John, you should be happy for our brother.” Joseph chided from his spot by the fireplace. “Rook is not just yours, she belongs to all of us.” He picked up a picture one of their men had captured; the deputy clearly didn’t know she was being watched and was glancing over her shoulder as she climbed a rock. She was clad in a gray wife-beater and ripped jeans, her feet covered in old hiking boots.

In the picture, you could see the thin sheen of sweat that had built across her skin. But mixed with the dark hairs framing her face and the way the shirt showed off the top of her breasts, the three of them couldn’t help but look it over.

“She’ll realize it soon. Give her time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up we see some bad-ass Mama Rook moments. See ya then!


End file.
